


Stowaway

by PaigeRoma



Series: Doctor [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Doctor Who References, Eventual Romance, F/M, Multi, Series, Star Trek References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeRoma/pseuds/PaigeRoma
Summary: Ayla was never meant to be free.From the moment she refused her Captain, Ayla chose death.So when the TARDIS wrenched her into safety, the Eleventh Doctor was angry. As unhelpful as his companions. Will Ayla survive this new disaster? What choices will she make?
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams, Eleventh Doctor/Original Female Character(s), Eleventh Doctor/River Song
Series: Doctor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675150
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. The Lonely End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic translated through the captain’s next announcement, “You will destroy yourself if you do this Ayla.”
> 
> And a desperate laugh escaped her lips, “I know.”

The internal dampers were supposed to be making this ride feel like Ayla was slicing through butter. Instead, the jittering control system of her shuttle informed her of anomalies being detected throughout the warp nacelles. An explosion from the back lurched her forwards into the pilot controls. Ribs protesting angrily at the metal bench.

This was not exactly what she had in mind when she snuck off the main vessel this morning. She was part of the entertainment class, not meant to pilot a shuttle. Not meant to leave her station.

But Ayla had other ideas.

Other talents.

Ones even _she_ didn’t know about and now was one heck of a time to test it. Shifting her arse back into the pilot’s metal seat, **this** was not where her story ended. Her fingers flew over the sporadically flashing keys, attempting to isolate which ones were working. _Step one, get the controls operational._

A crackle ebbed over the intercommunications, the deep hulking voice of the captain announcing himself.

“Ayla,” the sing-song tone sent a cold chill through her body as her hands stilled uncontrollably. She didn’t know the Captain knew her name, but as the last remaining human, she should have guessed. The temporal implant hissed the translation right into her ear, “You have had your fun, it’s time to return to captivity little bird.”

It was meant to be a joke, like a Captain to a subordinate. That was the tone he had. Ayla knew better than to trust that voice. It was the voice her father fell for all those years ago. It was the voice that condemned her via a recording to live a life of medical experiments. To be a slave, a pet to a creature that spoke no language she understood.

She was taught to be thankful for her gracious Captain as if the ominous voice were a God - she was kept alive after all, it taught her of her long-dead ancestors; the humans. Who was Ayla to refute this thing and its **joke**?

But Ayla was far from amused and the idea of going back there was not one worth living. She had _survived_ for so long, though...

“For experiments?” she asked, voice raspy from the smoke casually billowing from the rear portion of her vessel.

“Better than your other roles,” the reply was accompanied with another shot to her ship.

Ayla’s ribs protested again as she was flung forwards, a crack sound warning of damaged bones. But Ayla didn’t need air. Not now. Her hands returned to their task - successfully managing to gain access to a partial keyboard. Nothing she couldn’t learn how to use on the fly. So, with her left hand running controls, her right hand was free to pull up the visuals of where the hell she was.

“Shit,” the word came out in two puffs of sound, but the tears began streaming down her face in defeat. She was heading towards a black hole- either she went back to _them_ , or home beyond the stars. To freedom, and that alone was enough to die for.

The hiss from her translator numbed her body again, “Bring the vessel to a stop and we’ll take you back.”

And the stupidity of her long-forgotten ancestors bled through her. With her left hand plotting the course through the outer rim of the black hole, her right hand punched the few buttons on the centre console to engage the quantum slipstream drive. Her father had been an engineer turned pirate before his captivity so she could do this. It was in her genetics.

Not that she’d ever done this before. Just learned the theory.

Panic translated through the captain’s next announcement, “You will destroy yourself if you do this Ayla.”

And a desperate laugh escaped her lips, “I know.”

There was no way the vessel in its damaged state could do what she asked, and Ayla didn’t care. The translator embedded in her skull buzzed like a wasp as it transposed expletives of her ex-Captain. Ayla’s body trembled with adrenaline, gasping in air genuinely not knowing which would be her last. She slouched in her chair, wishing for a different life for herself, her family, and her species. And with renewed vigour, Ayla engaged the drive. The vessel jutted forwards and whatever inertial dampers she had? They weren’t worth **shit**.

Ayla bounced around the cabin like a rubber ball, praying to all the Gods she had ever been taught of.

Thoughts were hard to maintain. Every time she had one, a new pain hit her. Knocking comprehension to the wind. Ayla wanted to live so desperately, and focused on her erratically beating heart.

Anything to prolong her miserable life.

So when the light of the display screen shattered into a million pieces. The pain that entered her eyes felt like a tickle in comparison to her every cell burning alive.

Somewhere she heard the song her mother taught her. Before they were separated all those years ago. Before all… _this._ When she was free. The comfort of her almost forgotten voice echoed within her skull, as her mouth mumbled along desperately. “I’m about to lose my mind, you’ve been gone for so long… I’m running out of time. I need a doctor. Call me a doctor-” and in a metallic blast.

Ayla was no more.


	2. The Lonely End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whirring intensified as she vaguely heard the melodic voices from before. Odd words coming through; Tardis. Doctor. Uniform.
> 
> Ayla couldn’t take the pain in her body.

Ayla did not expect her first thought, or action to be a fist flying into soft tissue. Nor the first sound to be of someone groaning in pain. Her eyes were open, she thought. But she couldn’t see.

Why couldn’t she?

A melodic tone came from her left, and Ayla flung her head to face the sound. It was... a... voice? The pacing of the melodic tone certainly seemed like words. But they just sounded like gibberish to her. Another melodic tone, from in front of her, gruff and deeper. Male obviously, replied to the first singing voice. Ayla made to rub her eyes, to clear the sandy feeling from them and allow self-healing. To have sight returned, that would be marvellous.

Things didn’t go quite as planned. At first, her wrists were grabbed. The firm grip accompanied by that same singing voice of the man. It was hurried, a warning?

Ayla reacted as she often did. With instinct. She took a step back, feeling the cold familiar touch of metal. Wrists tingling as she forced them to relax. After years of being on that ship, she had been in a medical suite long enough to know her body with her eyes shut.

 _Funny_ , she thought ironically. In a quick action Ayla jerked her arms wide, her left foot (she hoped) connected to the chest of the man and all at once she was free. Ayla felt the metal behind, realising it was a bar, she ducked low and returned to her original plan.

Eye rubbing.

Instead, she **screamed** as sharp pain greeted her. Painful, wet stickiness laced her fingers and out of nowhere a voice. The voice was unexpected. It was low, yet undeniably clear and laced with a hint of power. An educated voice, with hard sarcasm;

“Wouldn’t rub that if I were you. Bit of a nasty wound. Metal shrapnel you’ve got in your eyes. Painful. But you’ve hit my friend you see, and I don’t particularly **like** violence,” the voice was quick, sing-song like the others, a clear warning to Ayla. The voice moved closer to Ayla and she had no time to react before a high-pitched whirring sound emanated from her ear. Exactly where her temporal implant was located.

Ayla’s left hand snatched itself to the bone behind her ear, a pained groan exiting between teeth as she fell immediately to her side, on the ground.

Attempting to control the writhing in her body. The absolute pain from within reminded of her of the first experiments. The whirring sounds shifted pitches, constantly pairing new tones, unbearably annoying. Like a wasp, she couldn’t kill.

The whirring intensified as she vaguely heard the melodic voices from before. Odd words coming through; Tardis. Doctor. Uniform.

Ayla couldn’t take the pain in her body. She shouldn’t have left the ship, she shouldn’t have run. She should have stood up and taken her punishments and experiments like the pet she was. In the fetal position, Ayla begged like she never had before. “I was wrong,” Ayla managed to get out between the pain and painful tears, “please. Stop. Please. I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

And to her utter surprise, it did. Completely, and the only sounds that greeted her ears were her own heavy breaths and the constant low hum of wherever the hell she was. The hum was comforting, so Ayla concentrated on it. Like the calming singing of her mother’s voice from before. The hum almost felt like a hug. She eventually heard the two singing voices from before.

“I told you to stay back Rory,” a female voice, Ayla recognised in relief.

“She was hurt, and I could help,” his voice was still obviously winded and Ayla had no time to entertain herself with their bickering.

“Translator fixed,” the voice in her ear was still thick with a warning. A chill shot through Ayla as she felt two hands grip her shoulders and lift her into a sitting position. Tremors shook her, and Ayla coughed painfully as her ribs crunched.

 _Freaking ow_ , her brain provided unhelpfully.

The voice didn’t seem to notice or care. The fluidity of his tone seemed both amused and full of threat. “Now why don’t you tell us who you are, hm?”

Ayla was shocked. Her name? That’s all this weird cut-glass voice wanted, fine he could have it. But her shock was met with another verbiage of words.

“It’s not a hard question-”

She’d had enough of his voice and interjected, “Ayla, that’s my name.”

There was a beat of silence, and to Ayla’s annoyance it was not the voice next to her that replied.

“Doctor, what did she say?” the lilting brogue of the woman announced. Ayla would have blinked in shock. Well, she tried and instantly was hissing in pain while her brain supplied thoughts; _Hadn’t this person said the translator was fixed? And what the heck kind of name is Doctor?_

“What?” the Doctor replied to her question.

“What?” the woman repeated.

“What?” The Doctor directs this at Ayla, and before any of them could repeat themselves in another round of singular questions Ayla replied;

“Ayla. My name is, Ayla.”

Silence again. “Nope,” the woman replied, “didn’t get a word of it. You Rory?” Another silence. “Well?”

“Well, I-” Rory was cut off by the woman, “See, nothing Doctor.”

“Strange,” suddenly the voice was nowhere near her and Ayla felt her body flop to the floor ribs refusing to stay in the crunched seating position. The hum had intensified like it was searching for Ayla...to comfort her.

 _What a nice sound_ , Ayla coughed painfully to herself. An orchestra of other noises began, as the so-named Doctor yammered on.

Her peace was disturbed by the voice of Rory. “Uh, look... I can help you. You’re hurt. I’m a...nurse.”

 _What was a nurse?_ Ayla wasn’t in a position to really reply or ask at this point. Coughing was starting to become her new exhale. The humming was getting louder and all Ayla wanted was to sleep.

To no longer be in pain. Was that too much to ask?

 _No_ , the hum seemed to reply, _you are safe here_.

Well, Ayla didn’t know if she would say ‘safe’ but the thoughts left her as the hum took on the sound of her mother’s voice.

 _You’re running out of time_ , it pulsed as Rory began pushing and prodding her. A scuffle sounded with the woman’s voice; “Stay away from her Rory!”

“Amy she’s **dying**!”

 _So this is was what dying was_ , Ayla could feel her lips curling up in a smile despite the gasping coughs. She had always wondered what this would feel like.

No more experiments.

“Peace at last,” Ayla felt her lips murmur. The hum seemed to refute this in her mother’s snapping voice, _You needed a doctor. I found you a doctor._

Ayla’s breath caught uncomfortably and she had never thought oxygen would feel wet. Or taste so thick. She tried to breathe in through her nose but everything was just being stopped by that wetness. This was uncomfortable. Ayla didn’t like this, and with a final pulse of adrenaline Ayla’s eyelids wrenched themselves open - desperately looking for the oxygen she couldn’t feel.

Not that she saw anything.

And despite the strong humming, Ayla was suddenly very cold.

“DOCTOR!” the combined voices of Amy and Rory had the Eleventh Doctor spin on his heel dramatically. And he blinked in shock as their new female guest convulsed on the floor. Eyes, what was left of them, streaming down her face.

The Doctor winced at the amount of agony he could **feel** emanating from the woman. But things weren’t adding up, and normally he liked challenges... this one just - weirded him out.

Taking half a step closer, simply to look the stranger over; her hair looked like cascading fire, deep red roots fading to a pale blonde currently stained with blood and plastered to a grey uniformed body. The Doctor had never seen this uniform, nor did he recognise the tattoos lining the neck of the Stowaway.

The Doctor had **just** finished rebuilding the bedroom for his Love-Dovey companions. Just re-built his ship, and after some intense running around, saved his Amy Pond from some rather nasty pasties. And finally, he found out about River Song. Saved her, and, well... well time is full of things. Honestly, the group were trying to enjoy some serious downtime after all of this mess.

So when the three of them entered into the console to find her phasing about the Tardis as if she _owned_ it. The Doctor had been unhappy with that. Angry honestly.

The violence that accompanied her, he was most dissatisfied with but the thing which annoyed him. Didn’t frankly make _any_ sense to a Time Lord. He didn’t understand her words.

Ayla was the name of this Stowaway, it was the only repeated thing the Doctor heard, but the Doctor spoke **all languages** understood them and now he couldn’t?

 _Not good_.

Rory was next to her doing whatever human thing he did to her chest, so the Doctor looked to Amy.

“Pond, are you sure your ears are working?” Amy gave him _that_ look. Not one he particularly understood but he assumed it meant the Doctor had asked a rude question. “Rory?” the Doctor asked hopefully, interrupting the man’s rapid movements.

“What?”

“Your ears, are they working?”

Rory’s anger confused the Doctor even more, “Yes?”

 _Was that supposed to be his answer or question,_ the Doctor pondered, but beautiful Pond had his back.

“He meant did you understand her?” Amy translated and Rory shook his head violently in the negative returning his accusatory glare to the Doctor.

“Now you’re supposed to be a Doctor. Come do some Doctoring or she’ll actually **be** dead,” Rory snapped.

The Tardis gave an uncharacteristically loud vibration through the floor seeming to zap the Doctor’s feet.

He yelped, jumping lightly on the spot before going to stabilize the Stowaway Ayla.

_Hopefully._


	3. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The whole place is filling with static,” the Doctor explained for his companions’ hands gesturing wildly, pushing Amy’s hair only to watch it return to the original position, “So much poised energy, I wonder what for?”

The Doctor had his sonic in his hand, attempting to ascertain exactly what this woman needed to survive. The Tardis had her in a bubble of energy. Assisting him, when the information being relayed to him only proved to make this mystery larger. _A humanoid, but not human at least...not anymore?_

It was at this moment Pond drew his attention.

“What’s this, why’s my hair doing this?” the Doctor glanced at her as she continued, “I’ve got tingles going all over.”

Amy’s hair was filled with static, her hair standing straight on all end. “Oh, how lovely,” the Doctor replied with a joyous smile racing to her side.

“Oi you,” the glare Amy sent him only made the smile turn cheeky.

“The whole place is filling with static,” the Doctor explained for his companions’ hands gesturing wildly, pushing Amy’s hair only to watch it return to the original position, “So much poised energy, I wonder what for?”

A blood-curdling scream from the direction of Ayla was their answer and a glance back saw why.

Floating in the air a horrified Rory hovered underneath the woman that, despite seeming totally _asleep_ , moved each of her joints individually beginning with the left hand. It was horrifying to watch and yet satisfying in a way the cracking bones accompanied by the odd scream of pain seemed to get less and less. Suddenly the floating stopped and Ayla’s body crashed toward the ground, awkwardly being caught by Rory.

The moment his arms wrapped around her, he left out a yelp and dropped her. “Ow, ow-”

“-I told you **not** to touch her Rory,” Amy’s response sounded snarkier than the tender expression as the woman raced to his side.

“Felt like I got zapped by-” he began, but the Doctor cut him off, sonic in hand to once again scan the woman. The information came back less obvious now, she seemed to _read_ as a totally healthy human.

Obviously, she was not. Even the botched eyes, now completely healed was enough to give that away. The pale skin, however, showed thousands of tiny silver scars, so fine it almost looked like miniature iridescent scales. He second-guessed himself for a moment, face coming close enough to see her pores.

_Nope_ , he was right. _Definitely scars._

All at once he was aware of deep green eyes staring down at him in... anger? Well, that wasn’t good.

The Doctor barely had time to get to a kneeling position, focusing his empathic and telepathic abilities to get a read on the woman but he couldn’t. While Ayla shifted into a standing position above him so fluidly she was like water.

Her eyes were wild, and by the time the Doctor had risen completely fat tears rolled down her face. Immediately feeling awkward he turned to Pond, mouthing a silent, _what do I do?_

Without a single beat of hesitation, Amy shouted. “Who are you? And who gave you the right to beat up my husband? Only I can do that.”

Rory glared his protest but the green eyes connected to Amy weirdly _before_ she started speaking. A shiver tried to make its way down Amy’s spine, but she held her chin up in revolt. She was _angry_ at this intruder.

She watched those dark green eyes steadily make their way around the room.

Ayla watched Amy talk, her name came back to her half a second after the woman was speaking. _Hadn’t she already answered that question before?_ Ayla’s eyes kept streaming, painful chunks exiting by tears. Memories of what she had done before were trickling back to her. She felt odd, numb. As if her body was not yet her own. She wanted to stretch, to move and **feel**. Memories of who she was not fully there yet, trickled in like a dream.

Whatever experiment those creatures did to her, Ayla _wasn’t dead_. That should have scared her, it didn’t. She surveyed Amy, the long legs, coppery red hair cascading around a pale freckled face. Pale green eyes glaring deeply at her. Husband, Ayla thought curiously to herself and glanced at the other two men. Both tall, the one with the bow-tie she ignored immediately and recognised the man with kind features as Amy’s husband. All three of them were human, or at least looked it to her. Ayla’s uncomfortably went right up; she hadn’t been this near so many humans without needing to entertain her masters so very long ago.

_Where were they?_

A cursory glance at the room did nothing more to confuse her. She wasn’t on any ship she recognised; a hexagonal console with a cacophony of instruments, some kind of view-screen and if she consulted her peripheral vision more a larger circular screen was set into a wall. A glance down showed glass floors and her feet clenched at it, uncomfortable with being on top of something see-through. There was a whole nother level down there, and she flicked her head up instantly noting another level above with the ceiling even further still.

Definitely not the dank metal tanks she often called ‘ship’, designed for creatures that didn’t need modern comforts. This place was... weird. She heard a soft, almost nonexistent hum. Oddly comforting. Ayla rubbed the back of her neck, trying to loosen the tense muscles and tried to introduce herself again. But as she tried to speak, croaks left her throat instead.

She was _so_ thirsty all of a sudden. _When was the last time we had a drink, girl?_

The man closest to Amy moved towards Ayla, yet despite the protests that left Amy’s mouth she allowed the man closer. Eyes narrowing in a clear warning. Memories of a voice telling her _violence was not appreciated_ reminded her of why there was hostility. Ayla would not apologise to her for that. She was defending herself.

The other man, she noted in her peripheral vision was busy yammering to himself bounding animatedly around the hexagonal console. The humming from beneath her felt odd, relaxing.

_What a dangerous place_ , Ayla thought to herself.

“Rory,” the man pointed to himself regaining her attention, and Ayla gave him a sarcastic salute in greeting. Left and right hands palm flat towards him, her head dipped along with her body in a short bow, allowing the eye contact she normally held at all costs to break for a moment. When she looked at him again the tiny movement his mouth made, let Ayla know Rory found that amusing. With both hands flat she hit her chest, forcing air out she tried her name again. A series of coughs was the reply.

Rory tried to get closer, but Ayla stumbled back without much of a thought. Eager to keep some distance from him.

“I think you need a drink,” Rory said slowly, his blue eyes as wide as his arms. The hands stayed flat and open, elbows crooked in a slight beckoning gesture. The moves were abnormally slow as if approaching a wild animal desperately trying to get her to trust him. He mimed drinking, and Ayla couldn’t help the smirk of humour. Ayla was used to being treated roughly, she wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. There was something kind in the fuzzy hair that framed his mouth and the way he kept his height lower than hers. That was considerate of him.

This...Rory really didn’t mean her harm?

She allowed his approach trying to smother the dry throat coughs that wanted to scare him away. He didn’t seem too worried, and that consideration of his only came more pronounced. Rather than touching her, his right hand guided her using a buffer of air between them. This man seemed to understand that she didn’t like being touched, and when she started to move with him the smile that hit her was blinding. “That’s the way,” the voice was equally as warm.

_How strange_ , her brain supplied while her body seemed to immediately want to punch him. She panicked at the face, eyes wide and darting. Rory noticed and pointed towards a singular chair, close to the bow-tied weirdo.

“That’s where we’re going, okay?” Rory prompted, clearly it was not up for debate, “Then you’re going to have a nice cup of tea. Okay?”

_What is tea?_ Ayla nodded despite the foreign word and when she sat Rory gave her a bunch of reassurances.

You won’t come to any harm.

We aren’t going to hurt you.

She didn’t respond to those, because she didn’t believe him. So when Rory finally nodded to himself, hands-on hips, “I’ll be back in five, okay?”

Ayla just nodded. She didn’t know what five was, she didn’t know what peace from pain was. But she did want him to know she understood his words.

The triumphant thumbs up she received before Rory left confused her.

But Ayla quickly learnt, thumbs-up meant bad things were coming.


	4. Time for Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was like the Doctor knew the answer, so she was ready to let him take the questions. Seeing that Ayla couldn't talk.
> 
> The Doctor seemed to dance with excitement.

Ayla had never felt a cushion on her arse before. That was a comfort she knew about but was not entitled to, a desire above her class.

“I’ll be back in five, okay?” Rory told her triumphantly and Ayla awkwardly nodded her reply, eager for whatever tea was in whatever five was.

The parting thumbs-up from Rory as Ayla watched him part confused her. But when she turned back to the front Amy and the bow-tie man stood before her, talking to themselves.

“You were dead moments ago,” the man was saying, “and now you’re not. Ayla.” The blink of shock was all Ayla could do before he was off again, “a common name on Earth. But you’re not from Earth are you?”

Ayla’s confusion was palpable, but even as she opened her mouth to attempt a response between coughs. The other redhead cut her off.

“Doctor, what are you saying, have we picked up another alien bug?” Amy narrowed her eyes even more at Ayla, “You haven’t put us into a coma, have you? Drifting us closer to the sun, hm?”

 _What the actual fuck,_ Ayla shook her head side-to-side slowly. Pupils never once leaving Amy’s.

The Doctor, if that was his actual name, spun Amy to him. “Don’t be silly Pond, an alien maybe but not a bug.” He gestured to the Tardis, “She picked her up.”

Now that had both women’s attention. _The ship.... picked Ayla up? But she was in the middle of being ripped apart_.

“From where?” Amy asked, “From what?”

By this point, Ayla’s memory of what had happened had refreshed itself fully. But it was like the Doctor knew the answer, so she was ready to let him take the questions. Seeing that she couldn't _talk_.

The Doctor seemed to dance with excitement, “A black hole.”

There was a beat of silence. Ayla stared at the Doctor with renewed confusion. He was _young_. Handsome, big nose, big ears, sharp cheekbones and floppy light brown hair that looked surprisingly soft and now he was back at the console looking exceptionally proud. How could he know all this?

 _Who is he?_ Ayla felt uncomfortable with this guy, a feeling that only grew.

“And how did the Tardis do that with us still in it not noticing a bloody black hole? Also, we haven’t moved from our spot,” Amy refuted calmly stalking her way to him and directing his gaze to the viewfinder of golden gasses, “I know the Tardis has all these powers Doctor, but aren’t we exactly where we were before? Floating in the middle of nowhere?”

The Doctor nodded, excitement not fading in the slightest. “Oh, my Amelia Pond we _have_ moved!”

Amy or Amelia (Ayla wished she could clarify) shook her head and pointed to the small console viewfinder again. “I remember seeing that exact blotchy orange spot, legitimately the second we exited the console room and returned. Same view. Same spot.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, taking Amy’s hand in his he announced slowly, “We have moved a single Planck.”

“A plank of what?” Amy grumbled, “Wood?”

“No not plank, Plan- _ck_. More emphasis on the wet sounds if you want. We moved. A very tiny movement, but we have. And in that exact moment when Ayla over there appeared in the console room the first time, the Tardis used that signal to pull her from another point in time entirely.” The Doctor looked to Ayla again before fondly speaking to his console, “another universe unknown to this one. The old girl has all the information in her.”

 _Did the lights just glow_ , Ayla wondered in confusion as the room seemed brighter, but she didn’t have time to wonder. Amy disappeared from view as the Doctor stalked towards her. Ayla resisted the urge to run, meeting his gaze directly. Filled to the brim with intelligence and mischief, “I think my Tardis picked you up, Ayla. That’s certainly the message she’s telling me.”

Ayla opened her mouth, again to reply. Changed her mind and gave him a clear thumbs up that she had learnt from Rory.

Whatever signal she gave seemed to only make the Doctor happier, “Clearly you can understand us, but not us you. So why don’t we fix that little language barrier of ours, hm?”

She had no time to react before her eyes focused on the tip of his large nose, focus crossing comically. Her head moved back though, not that it mattered as the large hands which kept touching her, forced her skull still.

Then, his forehead thumped against hers.

Painfully.

Her mind exploded beyond her own thoughts, beyond her known universe of understanding as if an anthology of her world was on display for any that wanted it. But it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

She felt her thoughts becoming sluggish and as soon as it began it was over with Ayla’s entire torso lolling forwards against the Doctor, unable to hold itself upright. For someone so layered in clothes, his hands were still oddly cold. The Doctor’s voice was in her ear.

“That wasn’t pleasant, I know. But it was for the best I assure you,” one of his hands seemed to massage the base of her skull before release. Ayla had never wanted to throw up so much. His grip changed to her shoulders and pushed her more upright grinning at her angered expression.

 _Why is he still touching me,_ she thought angrily, _I can sit by myself._ All Ayla wanted was for him to **-**

“Get off,” it came out between dry breaths and spurred a slight coughing fit. But the pleasant look on the Doctor’s face as he relinquished her was strange. The Doctor danced backwards pointing to Ayla practically singing in happiness.

“Amy, did you get that? Get off!”

Amy nodded, staring at Ayla in the same angry warning from before. Rory chose this exact moment to return. Carrying a tray of steaming mugs of varying tea strength. He wasn’t immune to the strange atmosphere. Nor the suddenly drunk looking woman that sat in the only seat available in the control room. Swaying strangely.

Rory chose to ignore it, however. Immediately making his way over to Ayla.

“A nice cup of tea for you,” Rory announced softly.

A slow blink and an inhale had Ayla awake in seconds. There was a slightly sweet smell to the air, and her mouth started to salivate. Causing her coughs to magnify.

Rory shifted the tray, grabbing the sweet tea he made for their guest and offering it to her with the standard, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Ayla could feel the heat of the drink as she desperately brought the liquid to her mouth. She paused long enough to sniff the liquid again and the control room was greeted to an almost childlike grin as she slurped the liquid, deep green eyes like a mood ring, brightened to the colour of a highlighter.

Rory winced, watching the pupils dilate strangely.

He was expecting searing hot liquid to be spat out at him, with the girl puffing air. But the woman didn’t, seeming to hold the hot liquid in her mouth. Comically swishing the searing tea from cheek to cheek before gulping. Rory watched in amazement as Ayla chugged the rest of the steaming liquid. Exhaling the smoke almost like she was a dragon, he couldn’t help but be entertained.

Ayla licked her lips as the amazing liquid soothed her throat. Sweet stickiness against her lips.

“So this is tea,” she mumbled, smile unable to subside as she tried the new word.

Rory blinked in shock at the accented English.

“Hey, I can understand you!”

Ayla nodded in response, smile calming to a crooked one instead. “My appreciation,” she gave a short dip of her head holding the cup out.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Rory shrugged happily returning the mug to the tray before asking softly, “I, uh, was away for a bit. Did I miss the part where you introduced yourself?”

Ayla felt the short air of laughter exit her lungs before she could stop it. She shook her head all the while thinking, _who are these weird people?_

“Good point, Rory!” the Doctor shouted from his position of lounging against the console hands gesticulating lazily, clapping every now and then like a mad-man, “Time for that introduction I reckon. I mean I know your name, but they don’t. So name, rank, uniform, all that mumbo-jumbo. First pet? I think that’s something someone asked once.”

“Also my _tea_ would be nice,” Amy chimed in sarcastically, Rory moved before he even realised he had. Pausing only long enough to give an apologetic shrug to the woman sending a thoroughly unamused look to the Doctor.

 _Well_ , Ayla gathered her courage to stand, _there’s always a first time for everything. Time to say hello with words._

And the moment her feet touched that horrifying glass floor, the humming vibrations from before were back. Giving her that comforting sense like before. Almost like a tickle.

Time to talk.


	5. Sad Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Doctor,” it was Amy, that surprisingly sounded defensive. She approached the Doctor and punched him in the shoulder twice. He let her as she hissed, “were you listening at all?”

The fuzziness beneath Ayla’s feet made her stretch on her tiptoes before rocking back. Planting the balls of her feet she cleared her throat softly, heart beating faster. She looked briefly to Rory. Those kind features. To Amy Amelia, the stoic woman with the long legs. Then finally, Ayla looked to the Doctor.

The Doctor was approaching her. Half crouched, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. Ayla acted instinctually. Exhaling sharply at him through her nose, chin jerking forwards in a simple action, eyes narrowed in a clear message: **Back off**.

The Doctor, once more was surprised. She was speaking with air. He halted instantly, popping to his original height eyes wide. At Ayla’s repeated action, the Doctor stepped back a few paces, gracefully.

“My appreciation,” Ayla growled to him angrily. The word sounding more like a curse than thanks. She huffed air into her lungs again. “Ayla,” she pointed to herself and then to each of them, “Rory, Amy Amelia, Doctor.”

She didn’t really say Doctor like it was a familiar word, the sounds too short and slightly lazy. No one had the time to interrupt her, as she gestured to her slate grey uniform. Appealing to the three of them again her mind wandered. It was a warm uniform, Ayla couldn’t fault that. It was thick and conformed to her body, enough to show she was a woman, but not really embellished in any other way. Practical, not comfortable. The only clothes she was allowed to possess.

“This is worn by the entertainment class,” Ayla pointed to herself again as if the connection wasn’t obvious enough, “I am Ayla, from the Entertainment Class.” When she spoke next it was to the Doctor only, “I am the pet.”

The silence was palpable for a moment, and it was Rory that spoke.

“Sorry Ayla, don’t mean to be rude but uh, _you_ were the pet?”

Rory felt a shiver go down his body when her eyes connected to his, they were a deep green once more. Sad, he thought, like a puppy. The look she gave him seemed nicer than the one she gave the Doctor but the message was the same; stay back.

“Yeah...” her reply was soft but enunciated well enough.

“Australian!” the Doctor announced suddenly, spinning on the spot laughing to himself with a gleeful punch to the air. “Always fancied myself a bit of an accent expert but never really had the chance to test it, I’m normally not - _down undah_.”

The Doctor seemed to mime Ayla’s accent as he spoke to her and his oddity was rewarded with silence. And another pointed look from his companions.

Ayla spoke, “Your words don’t make any sense.”

The Doctor blinked at her nodding emphatically. “Yes, yes well it’s hard for you to make those connections. Your memories and thoughts are only limited to your environment. I’ve been to Australia and, uh -first pet, huh? Tell us more. A dog? A penguin? Now that would be quite something with all the waddling and huddling.”

“Doctor,” it was Amy, that surprisingly sounded defensive. She approached the Doctor and punched him in the shoulder twice. He let her as she hissed, “were you listening **at all**?”

Ayla had never been in an environment like this, and she honestly didn’t know what to do. So staring through the glass floor, at the strange technology peeking through she explained softly, “Any member of the Entertainment class is a Pet. Wouldn’t make any sense for a pet to have a pet, would it?” She blinked up at the Doctor, small smirk in place. “That’s called reproduction, and like all good pets we surrender that of which we are not entitled to.”

Everyone was suddenly uncomfortable, but not the Doctor.

Instead, he said, “I saw your memories though. I saw your mother, your father, your brother.”

Amy didn’t notice the shoe flying at the Doctor, but she did see it hit him solidly in the nose. It connected with an audible **thwock-** _crack_ and the Doctor was on his arse moaning. Amy blinked rapidly before attempting to place herself between the intruder and her Doctor. But it didn’t even look like Ayla had moved. Her shoe was off, barefoot planted on the ground, the ink peeking under the uniform by the ankle.

There was what looked like a tear but Amy couldn’t really tell from this far.

“Oi, no more throwing things,” Amy told her angrily, “Yes the Doctor is a massively insensitive idiot, but you’ve already hurt half the people in here. So, keep to yourself, or I'll eject you.”

The length of the warning gave Ayla enough time to realise she wasn’t breathing, and the vibrations in the floor were zapping her toes.

Grounding her.

“Maybe I want to be ejected,” Ayla grumbled softly in reply, “I didn’t fly into a blackhole asking to be saved, Amy Amelia.”

There was a soft sigh from the copper-haired woman.

“It’s Amy,” her voice was oddly soft and Ayla watched the woman approach, “only call me Amelia if I’m in trouble.”

The Doctor sat upright, back against the console, making strange faces as he pushed and prodded his nose. Rory probably should have helped, but he was more content to sip his tea. Seemingly the only one in the Tardis comfortable with what was happening.

Amy stopped at a comfortable distance where she could hold a conversation without feeling like Ayla could throw a punch or kick at her.

“I have no idea who or what you are, Ayla. But you look human,” Amy said eyes narrowing only slightly, “So tell me, what happened to make you this, pet?”

When Amy said the word her entire face looked repulsed, exactly how Ayla felt being the pet.

“I don’t know what to tell you...Amy. Your Doctor seems to know things that even I don’t.... remember fully.” She sighed angrily, “My brother and I were sold by my father before his death. I can tell you that much, we were young. My brother didn’t survive some of the experiments, I did.”

There was a loaded question waiting to be asked, and Amy was fine to be the one to ask it, “Experiments?”

Ayla nodded. “Too many to count, too many to keep track of the changes. All designed as procedures for bettering pets for the Captains. Humans weren't designed for those procedures, but that didn't stop them.”

“And who is your Captain?” the Doctor had returned.

_Great_. Ayla wished she could throw her other shoe at him. But he was smart to stay back. Calling out to Ayla whilst still using Amy as defence.

“Good fucking question,” she snapped at him and pointed to her temple dramatically, “I never remembered meeting it. So, you didn’t find the answer while rooting around in here?”

“I- _look_ \- that was to help everyone out,” the Doctor spluttered angrily, “Obviously you can communicate now so maybe **stop** with the hurting people that helped you, hm.”

Ayla moved past Amy now, fully ready to be ejected. 

This man is infuriating.

“I didn’t _ask_ for help. I didn't even know there were humans _left alive_. And I never would have asked for help from **you** ,” she screamed at him left arm viciously emphasising her every point.

It was like a hot rod shot up the Doctor’s back.

Those blue eyes of a dozen shades looked genuinely hurt. Instead of saying anything, he pulled the small viewfinder from the console, punching a few buttons on the screen he turned it around.

Face stoic as ever.

And in her horror, Ayla was looking at herself... dying.

The image was filled with static, as was the sound being amplified throughout the console room, but there was no denying that it was her flat voice; “I’m about to lose my mind, you’ve been gone for so long… I’m running out of time. I need a doctor. Call me a doctor-”

As the image disappeared from view the Doctor plugged the viewfinder back in. Turning around with a low, angry voice, he informed her, “Ayla of the Entertainment Class. I am the Doctor."

Ayla's eyes widened in realisation. The song she had mumbled had used his name. _No fucking way_.

It was almost funny the way he cocked his head. Like he knew just how attractive he was. With a raised eyebrow, voice deeper still he whispered, "You called?”

His features softened when he saw her shortness of breath, very evidently a panic attack.

“That’s the only song I remember my mother singing,” Ayla was speaking so quickly the words toppled into each other, “it’s just a song.” She looked up at the Doctor desperately breaths no longer supplying her enough oxygen she whined, “I didn’t ask for you. I didn’t know it was your name. I didn’t want this.”

To the surprise of all, Ayla dropped to knees, desperately trying to gasp in oxygen. She didn’t stop speaking all the while, words on the inhale and exhale.

“There is no such thing as Earth,” with a wild glance around the cabin she continued, “You can't be here right now. I was with the last humans... I saw them die. This is a lie. It has to be,” She started to rock, hands raking through long matted hair, “I just wanted to die. Please, I just wanted to be free. Why would you stop that? Why would you save **me**?”

The lights of the Tardis dimmed, the console room dropping a few degrees. _The Tardis is sad_ , the Doctor noted and in his peripheral vision, he saw their switch move. _Yes, very sad_. He noted Amy was by Rory’s side again, the two near enough to the Doctor to provide him assistance, but far enough away from Ayla’s vision supporting each other.

_What a pickle._


	6. Glass Jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was ready for death... and sometimes having that moment of peace being ripped away is the worst thing to have to happen.

The Doctor flopped to the floor in front of the woman in the middle of a complete breakdown. The Doctor couldn’t blame Ayla for that, she was ready for death... and sometimes having that moment of peace being ripped away is the worst thing to have to happen. Especially when you’re saying good-bye to the worst kind of life, he imagined.

Though the Doctor doubted if Ayla really would have died, watching the way she had healed so quickly. What experiment could they have performed so she could do that? It was more likely to him that her captives would have found a way to recapture her. He shook his head to clear it, now was not the time to be solving the mystery.

Folding his legs comfortably underneath him he easily restrained the fists that flew at his face, fully expecting them. He took a knee to the stomach before he realised her shorter legs were unrestrained, and equally as dangerous.

So turning her around awkwardly in his arms, he pulled her into a straight jacket position, forcing her to sit in his lap with Ayla’s back to his chest. The Doctor managed to use long legs to force her violent limbs into submission. He was going to be nursing bruises for a few hours.

Pushing that mane of foreign hair into his tender nose he rocked her slightly like he would a toddler. Ignoring the slightly sweaty smell of smoke and other weird scents, he whispered softly to calm her as it often did him.

“When you have eliminated the impossible,” he murmured, “whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth.”

He didn’t expect her to freeze completely and reply with a desperate, “but I don’t want this truth, I would rather die.”

He forced her body to continue to rock, letting go of her arms long enough to wrap her into a hug instead. He continued on, a test if she truly understood this opportunity.

“You are a glass jar full of stars, subjected to a life you never asked for, under circumstances you may never want to share. But in the Universe you are in _right now_ an Earth exists, and even better Ayla - there is entire galaxy filled with humans. Humans are very much alive, and very much free to do what they please. Is that not the freedom you wanted?”

“Then I have no family, no name, and no purpose,” the response was softer, mumbled.

The Doctor could feel his arms soaked through with tears.

“You make a new family, a new name, and a new purpose,” he whispered, “Freedom, Ayla. What you’ve always wanted... at long last.”

“Let me go,” she murmured, lightly tapping his arms, “I’m not going to hit you.” The Doctor took a moment to comply, but Ayla continued to speak, “I am so very tired.”

“If you are tired, you sleep,” the Doctor responded forcefully, “you sleep for a long as you need. Right, compadres?”

Ayla had forgotten about the other two humans.

They didn’t really seem real. But they were there, responding to her. Amy nodded, a stressed look passing over her features for only a moment. When Amy realised Ayla was looking at her, she allowed her eyes soften as she smiled shyly.

Tucking that bright copper coloured hair behind an ear.

“Of course,” Rory vocalised throat thick with emotion, “I know a lot of movies you can watch to pass the time!”

Ayla frowned, curiosity peaking over the deep depression she felt.

“What is a movie?”

It was Amy that replied, threading her arm through Rory’s and leading themselves over.

“Why don’t you come to find out? Best way to learn about us humans without needing to do a thing, great welcome to a universe I think. Also, more tea. You seemed to like that?”

Ayla couldn’t hold back the remaining tears when she nodded emphatically.

“Is there really more of that?”

“As much tea as you could possibly imagine,” Rory whispered to her as Amy nodded secretly to her, offering a hand to help her stand.

Ayla hesitated, wondering if this weird dream would end. The warmth of Amy’s hand, the vibrating floor and with Rory leading the way out of the console room almost had Ayla forgetting about the Doctor.

Almost.

“Who is he?” she asked them, “Really?”

Their faces changed a few times, and the hallway they walked through seemed to go on for a while.

“Bit hard that one,” Rory admitted adding simply, “he’s the Doctor.”

“Sometimes he’s Doctor John Smith,” Amy prompted.

“Yeah, that’s true. But he’s not a bad guy,” Rory explained emphatically, “saved our lives loads of times.”

“He’s a Time Lord,” Amy replied as if that cleared things up, “last of his kind.”

“Which explains why he’s so bad at talking to people,” Rory noted as the hallway eventually came to an end, announcing to a closed door, “Here we are! Wonder what the Tardis made for us, guesses? Amy?”

“One way to find out, c’mon you,” Amy grabbed Ayla’s hand again ignoring the wince that crossed the girls face at the contact.

Opened the door and tugged the woman in. In that moment Ayla’s education on her weird new universe began. As time seemed to pass she never seemed to see the Doctor. Either asleep when he came to join his companions or left alone to wander the vast interior of the Tardis while the three went out.

She would hear his voice like a whisper. See his shadow like a ghost. But she never seemed to bump into him, ever. On one of her expeditions through the Tardis, Ayla has gifted a room of long green grass; a field for her to run when she wanted.

It always appeared when she needed space away from her new companions in the Tardis, and after a while, Ayla wondered if she could claim the room as hers.

It was often in the long grass, smelling of petrichor (she had learnt that word recently) warmed by a soft golden glow of a sun she had never seen. In those moments Ayla slept safest, the soft vibration of the Tardis her constant companion.

In her waking moments though. Ayla learnt all information the Tardis had to offer. Consumed books like water, music like air, and movies like food. Until the Doctor deemed her important enough to talk to again... Ayla would train.

Like the pet she had once been.

Ayla never realised the Doctor had been watching her all this time. Waiting impatiently to converse with his guest, not willing to wake her if he eventually discovered his companions. Any time he turned to greet her, the Tardis had placed another room in his path and he would be lost for hours in amazement.

He would try to communicate through the console room, but never seemed to talk to her. Always Amy or Rory, like the Tardis was doing this to him on purpose but he would figure out a way.

He is a madman with a box, after all. So it was time for his beloved box to play **his** game.

**Author's Note:**

> Having just been reintroduced into the Whovian universe after a long break,  
> I hope you enjoy Ayla and her introduction.


End file.
